Never Forget
by YouKnowYouLoveMe22
Summary: After Catching Fire, a huge war takes place: Districts 1 through 13 vs. The Capitol. This fanfic takes place two years later, revealing what happened during the war, and the aftermath. Warning: Sad. I think it's K , but I'm making it T just in case.


**Okay, so this is only my second fanfic (my first in The Huger Games category), so bear with me here. This was just a random idea I had, and it's kind of sad, so if you don't like sad stuff, I wouldn't read it. I haven't read Mockingjay yet, so this is my perspective, skipping Mockingjay and six months after (so Prim turned 13 now, Katniss almost 18, and so on). ****I'm really not sure if I am going to do more chapters yet. That will probably be up to you guys, and if you like the story, so comment if you like it, or don't like it, or whatever. Criticism is accepted, but don't be too harsh, since I am only 12.**

**I do not own The Hunting Games. I am not Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

I look out at District 12, a city so full of joy; butI still can't see it. Sure, I hear the undeniable sounds of laughter and happiness, but my brown eyes still insist on betraying me, because instead of seeing the cause of my city's newfound source of hope, I see only a tattered, dilapidated city; scraped bare of any source of happiness.

Through my eyes, the large green trees, so full of life that you can practically smell it, look like dead stumps, chopped down and surrounded by soggy brown leaves. Through my eyes, the many homes spotting the land, freshly painted and surrounded by flowers in all sorts of brilliantly vivid colors, look like each one had a personal boulder dropped over it's roof, crushing all of the wood and cracking all of the windows to miniscule pieces. Through my eyes, instead of looking clean, new, and perfect, everything seems to look filthy, century's old, and just plain out terrifying. Everything looks this way because I can't see the beauty; I am still blinded by what used to be. What everything looked like before. Before the war. Before we rebelled. Before the world was supposedly set right again.

We won. I know we won, and I know I should be happy, like everyone else seems to be, but I still can't seem to wrap my head around the facts. Even Gale, with his incredible smile and that voice I know way too well, was unable to pull me out of my current state of depression. 'I think you're actually turning into boring Catnip!' He'd tease, and I would fake a smile just for him, but I am positive he knew it was fake. Just like I am positive that, as well as killing myself with my stubbornness and lack of will to live, I was also slowly killing him from the inside out.

But I can't help it. I can't help the tears that fall down my face, even now as I sit on the creaky wooden floor of our old home, and I can't help feeling like we lost. Deep down I really do know that we won; but it just doesn't feel like we did. We won the war. We stole back our city, but they stole something that seems equally as important: the lives of thousands of district citizens who didn't need to die.

They killed part of the district, part of my family, and therefore, part of me. Yes, that is the bullshit I keep telling everyone whenever they ask what brought upon my misery. That is the lie I chose to tell; but truthfully, it's nothing more than a lie, since I really don't care about them _that _much. Sure, they were innocent people, but I didn't really know any of them, and after living to tell the tale of participating in not one, but _two_ of the capitols annual hunting games, I have honestly seen more death than life. So no, that is not the true source of my depression. The true source of my depression is something that I won't even admit to myself, but also something that I really do know is true. The true source of my depression is that they stole _him_. They took him away from me. They probably tortured him, maybe even killed him; but when they stole him, they stole my heart; and a girl can't live without a heart.

I stare out the cracked window, almost expecting him to walk down the street, that usual cheeky smile that I love spread wide across his face, as though nothing ever happened. But everything happened, and deep down I know that he will probably never come back. Just like my dad will never come back.

I have a new understanding for my mom now, and why she acted the way she did when my dad passed. I mean, I'm actually the one acting that same exact way now, aren't I? Still, my pain and depression overlap the guilt, and I make no effort to apologize to my mom for the years of hatred I felt toward her, because I know she knows I never meant it.

Sighing, I look around at the house, and the dilapidated dump it has become. This is the one place that I would not allow District 13 to repair. This is my one reminder of the war. This is what will always keep me from forgetting; and while my memory is still clear, the strength and joy I once possessed will stay gone, lost in an eternity of pain and misery.

* * *

I can't help but flinch in surprise at the knock on the door, and then the sudden hope the fuels my body as I jump up to open it, knocking down the chair I had been sitting in in the process.

"Hey Katniss," A quiet voice says, but instead of _his_ voice, I hear the shy, delicate, feminine voice belonging to a person, probably the only person, who has not given up on me yet.

"Prim," I greet her with a tight smile, inviting her inside, but she doesn't enter. She stands in the doorway, moving one pale arm to rest on each of her hips.

"_Please_ come home Kat. _Please!_" The now 13-year-old pouts, and for a second I can see the little girl that I so willingly volunteered to take the place of in the games. So willingly gave my life for; but I couldn't do what she wanted me to now.

"It's been six months Katniss." She continues, and I fight back the guilt I feel when I hear her voice, "_Six months_! You can't live like this forever. You can't do this to yourself. I… I won't allow it. I won't let you. No! You no longer have my permission."

I fight the urge to laugh at the young teen, but I don't, since I know that will surely set her off on one of her crazy rants, so instead I simply say, "_This _is my home. I'm a big girl now, Prim. I can make decisions for myself." I say, and am utterly surprised when she has a reasonable comeback prepared.

"I won't bring you food anymore. I won't let Gale bring it either. Or mom. And… and I won't let you know about the news involving the capitol. I won't let you know what happened today. Who came home today." She says this all in an unusual voice, adding a mischivious smile at the end for effect, but I hardly noticed.

"Who came today?" I asked, maybe a little too soon, since Prim just giggles.

"I _knew_ that was the real reason for your misery!" She exclaimed, a big grin spreading across her face at her new discovery.

Shoot. She knows. "Yeah, yeah. But really Prim, who came today?" I repeat, forcing myself to sound calm and collected. "And I'm not miserable."

"Yes you are, Katniss; and I'm afraid I'm not supposed to tell you that," Prim sing-songs, turning around and beginning to dance away.

"Prim." I say, giving up on the whole calm idea and turning on her with two stern eyes now, "Who. Came. Today?"

Prim just giggles some more, entirely unfazed by my tone. That's odd, the Prim I know would usually break down into tears at the sound of an angry voice, but now she just… smirks. "Sorry sis, you're just going to have to see for yourself."

"Primrose Everdeen, I demand that you tell me what's going on this instant!" I say, hoping that the use of her full name would have some sort of effect on her—any effect—but nothing happens. She doesn't even reply this time, just skips away as though I had said nothing. "Prim, I'm serious. You'd better tell me or… or… or I'll…" But it was no use. Prim was already out of site, and I have no threat to use on her anyway, so I just stand there, unsure of what to do.

Finally, my curiosity gets the best of me. I move a tentative foot to the other side of the door, before forcing the other to follow; and before I know it, I am outside my little bubble for the first time in months, trying to figure out which way Prim had gone.


End file.
